It was a gathering in an apartment, but the kind of vast apartment that real adults live in. I was out on the balcony with an older man, probably in his 40s, to whom I was somehow sexually obligated. I did what I had to do, and it was not violation, merely duty and mild discomfort, like the last few minutes of a job you have no passion for. I went inside, he didn't follow, I mingled. I spoke to a young woman, younger than me, maybe 16, who was sweet under all the gravel and tar. Later a maternal figure was telling me of two girls she wanted me to take under her wing, Lily and Etha, and I realized the former, the blonde one, was who I had been talking to.
The word "typrex" was really important, but I don't remember what it meant.
With two other people, possibly Griffin and Thom, hiding in the woods. Vaguely reminiscent of our hike through Olympic National Park (WA), but not the same place.
Going, or discussing going, to Indiana with Ricky to buy cigarettes. In this dream I smoked Lucky Strikes.
